Exception to the Rule
by Ms. Zeal
Summary: Anyone who crosses an Assassin generally doesn't live to see another day. However, there is an exception to every rule...


**Chapter 1**

Ezio sat behind the large desk in the Assassin's headquarters in Constantinople. He was skimming over a few letters, occasionally referring to the map spread out over the desktop as he debated how many and which assassins to send in response to the various requests for aide. Yusuf and a few other assassins sat at the table in the opposite corner, eating lunch and sharing humorous stories.

Everyone instinctively glanced toward the entrance when they heard the door open, relaxing when one of their own descended the long staircase. Conversation petered off when two foreigners, a man and a woman, followed the assassin into the main hall.

"Yerman, what is this?" Yusuf asked, keeping his voice neutral as he stood. After all, outsiders generally weren't allowed inside the Assassin's Dens without a good reason.

"Forgive me, _effendi_," Yerman said, placing his hand over his heart as he bowed, "but they have a letter of introduction from our Venetian brothers." He handed the paper over to the den master. "They say they are here to see _il Mentore_." His eyes slid over to the old Italian assassin sitting at the desk.

Ezio looked up at his name, setting the letters aside as he studied the newcomers. Their clothes were made of the finest material and styled after the latest Italian fashion. The way they held themselves also gave away the fact that they were of noble birth. The similarity of their features indicated they were closely related; probably siblings, given they both seemed to be in their earlier thirties. Ezio leaned back in his chair, stroking his short beard as he gazed at the vaguely familiar features. _I'm sure it's them. Antonio did send word they were looking for me... _he mused.

Yusuf turned toward Ezio. "Well, _il Mentore_?" he asked, one eyebrow raised questioningly. The Turkish assassin's brows furrowed in confusion as Ezio subtly gestured for him to stand down.

The Italian noble followed Yusuf's gaze, glowering when he saw the old man sitting at the desk. "You!" he all but shouted, stalking angrily toward the old assassin. "Ezio Auditore, you bastard! You thought you could escape me by running away? I'll make you pay for what you've done! " he continued, headless that every other assassin's hands were now holding onto their weapons in response to his hostility.

At another subtle gesture from Ezio, Yusuf signaled them to put their weapons away, unsurprised to find four throwing knives clutched between his own fingers.

Ezio didn't show any reaction to the angry greeting, focusing instead on the other inhabitants in the room. He saw the way the noblewoman froze at the mass appearance of weaponry, as well as the almost desperate glance at her brother. He waited to speak, making sure all weapons were sheathed once more before addressing the nobleman. "It's you!" he cried, his tone and expression almost matching that of his accuser. The sudden [and somewhat belated] change in demeanor made all the assassins start once more, although this time they managed to keep from pulling their weapons. The noblewoman, who had looked as though she were about to give her brother a verbal lashing, jumped as well, looking even more surprised than the assassins at Ezio's outburst. "I never thought you'd find me here..." he trailed off, staring searchingly at the man before him. "Adone?"

The nobleman visibly bristled. "It's Ottoviano!" he snapped.

"Yes!" Ezio agreed angrily, nodding sharply. "I haven't seen you since..." he trailed again, his expression thoughtful. "Rome?"

"Forli, you half-wit!"

The noblewoman's eyes widened at the insult and she again looked like she was about to say something, but Ezio cut her off. "Forli! Ottoviano? From Forli? It's you!" he said dramatically.

Ottoviano smirked, crossing his arms as he tossed his head to the side. "Ha! So, you _do _remember me!"

"How could I forget?" Ezio said, matching the angry tone before turning pensive once more. "I...owe you money?"

Ottoviano snapped his gaze back to the old assassin. "No!"

"I stepped on the plants in your rooftop garden," Ezio guessed.

"No!"

"I beat you at a race?"

"No!"

"Did I hide a dead guard in your hay cart?"

"N- wait, that was YOU?!"

"Of course not."

"But, you just said-"

Ezio cut him off, plowing on ahead. "Did I steal your favorite black horse?"

"I, I don't have any black horses..." Ottoviano and his sister both seemed thrown completely off-balance by the unexpected barrage.

The other assassins in the room could do nothing but stare, confounded by the oddness of their mentor's behavior. None of them seemed to be able to reconcile the serious and driven man they had come to know and respect with the doddering old fool that seemed to have unexpectedly taken his place.

Ezio, for his part, wasn't quite done yet. "You're too young to be here to defend your sister's honor, and I think I would remember a _Madonna _such as her," he said, gracing her with a smile. "If your mother is half as beautiful as she is..." His eyes widened as if a sudden thought occurred to him. "I'm not your father, am I?" he asked, letting a bit of horror color his voice.

"What? No!" Ottoviano shook his head almost frantically.

His sister stepped closer, laying her hand on his arm. "I think that's enough," she said softly, glancing sorrowfully at the old assassin. "I only agreed to bring you here because you said you wanted to talk and nothing more. Besides," she lowered her voice, trying to be discreet. "He's gone a bit soft in the head. He's obviously not the same man he used to be."

Ottoviano protested and Ezio almost smiled as the noblewoman's eyes flashed before she pulled her brother off to the side, whispering quietly into his ear. _It seems she has her mother's sharp tongue, _he thought, watching as the blood seemed to drain from Ottoviano's face.

All the assassin's watched the siblings argue quietly, none of the words audible but the gestures and expressions speaking volumes about what was said. It wasn't long before the nobleman's shoulders slumped in defeat. With one last angry and disappointed glance at the Italian assassin, Ottoviano turned and walked quietly outside.

The noblewoman moved gracefully back to Ezio's desk, curtsying to him in a courtly manner. "Please forgive our intrusion," she apologized. "My brother blames you for the loss of Forli-"

"Do not worry about it," Ezio said, waving off her apology. "I know he took the death of your mother very hard. I'm glad to see you're taking care of him, Bianca."

Bianca's head snapped up at her name, eyes wide and mouth hanging open ever-so-slightly. Ezio smiled at her, watching as the understanding dawned in her eyes. She returned the smile whole-heartedly. "Oh, you are clever, _Messere _Auditore," she said, laughing.

The old assassin inclined his head slightly. "I do what I can," he replied.

"I'm sorry, but I must go after my _idiota _of a brother, before he gets into more trouble. I'll make sure he does not bother you again," she said, curtsying once more. "But, I'm glad to see you are doing well."

Ezio rose to his feet, bowing in a similar fashion. "Likewise. You've grown into a fine woman."

Bianca smiled again, acknowledging the compliment before hurrying out of the den after her brother.

Ezio resumed his seat, picking up the letters again as if nothing had happened.

The other assassins in the room just looked at each other, still confused.

"Ezio," Yusuf began, casually strolling over to the desk, "far be it for me to question the great Mentor da Firenze, but perhaps you can explain the reasoning behind your actions to me?"

"Have you heard of Caterina Sforza?" Ezio asked.

"_Evet_, I'm familiar with the tales of her holding out against the French and Borgia's army combine, but not much more than that."

"She acted as Regent of Forli until her oldest son, Ottoviano Riario, came of age. Unfortunately, Rodrigo Borgia stripped her of her fiefdoms when she was captured by Cesare. She pleaded her case to Pope Julius II, but the domain was given to someone else," Ezio explained. "Those two are Caterina's oldest children, Bianca and Ottoviano. From what I understand, Ottoviano blames me for the loss of Forli."

"Why would he blame you?" Yusuf asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the support pillars.

"Caterina was an ally to the Assassin's, as well as a dear friend. She was visiting me at my uncle's villa in Monteriggioni when Cesare captured her," Ezio said, his jaw tightening at the memory.

Yusuf picked up on what was not said and did not press for details. "But, Rodrigo died eight years ago- why is Ottoviano coming after you now?" he asked, steering the conversation in a safer direction.

"I cannot say for sure, but I would guess that Caterina would not allow it before."

Yusuf blinked. "His mother wouldn't allow it? Is he a man or a boy?" he scoffed.

"Caterina had a rather..._forceful _personality," Ezio said with a fond smile. "Something her son did not inherit. Ottoviano hasn't fared too well since her passing a little over a year ago. Bianca seems to be looking out for him, but he needed someone to blame for his troubles and I was convenient."

"I'm not sure how you managed to live so long, if it is your habit to leave living enemies at your back," Yusuf said, his tone only half-teasing. In this line of work, enemies had to be dealt with quickly and efficiently. With Templars easily outnumbering the Assassins, mercy was a luxury they could ill afford.

The Italian assassin shook his head. "Ottoviano is angry and looking for someone to fight with. Unfortunately, all he found was a senile old man."

Yusuf paused as the reason for Ezio's bizarre behavior suddenly became clear. He tossed back his head and laughed, the sound ringing throughout the hall. "You robbed him of his enemy! Truly, this is a side of you I didn't think existed, Ezio Auditore!"

"I have enough problems without borrowing those of others," Ezio stated, rubbing a hand across his tired eyes. "If only all problems were so simple to solve..."

"That is true," Yusuf agreed. "Still, I shall treasure the memory of this, the day when I discovered _il Mentore _actually has a sense of humor!" he said, heading back to his unfinished lunch

"Just as I will treasure the memory of you dressed as a Venetian minstrel, trying to figure out which end of the lute to hold on to," the old assassin returned, his eyes back on the letters in his hands once more.

Yusuf winced at the reminder of the disguise they'd used the previous week to infiltrate Prince Suleiman's party. "_Touché,_ Ezio. _Touché._"

**The End**


End file.
